


Heart to Heart

by the_authors_exploits



Category: The Amazing Spider-Man (Movies - Webb)
Genre: AU, Angst, Depression, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/F, Fluff, Gen, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Kinda, M/M, OHH LOOK WHO HAS A LAPTOP AGAIN!!!, Romance, drug mentioning, idk what you want from me, radio host!au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-14
Updated: 2014-11-14
Packaged: 2018-02-25 09:36:05
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,535
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2617082
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_authors_exploits/pseuds/the_authors_exploits
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry and Peter were separated at twelve years old. The only good thing about boarding school was the CDs Peter kept sending...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Heart to Heart

**Author's Note:**

> I HAVE A LAPTOP AGAIN, SING THE PRAISES!!! Ok, long story again, I was working on this before my laptop went kaput and I have a new laptop now so YAYYY I finished it!! If anyone wants a list of the songs just let me know and I'll put them either here or at the end... Most, if not all, titles are said within the story.  
> I HOPE YOU ENJOY~~

** Nineteen Years of Age **

_-@parkours_lover has requested Stereo Heart covered by Megan and Liz for their boyfriend; one of my favorite songs, parkours_lover! So here we go; you’re listening to the one and only Web Radio!-_

Harry huffed a laugh, adjusted the headphones in his ears, and leaned back against the headboard of his bed to watch the rest of the radio show. More specifically, to watch Peter Parker dance to the beat of the music. Every Thursday, 2:15 Eastern Time, Web Radio would air on one of the many New York City radio stations.

How Peter ever paid for such a spot on the station was beyond Harry’s knowledge; it cost a lot of money, Peter must’ve saved for ages to get it! And his job of selling photos to the _Daily Bugle_ didn’t pay that much… Of course, Harry could’ve (would’ve) gladly bought him any spot on the station, on any station (probably the most popular; only the best for Parker). But Harry hadn’t talked to Peter in years (three, but who was counting). So Peter had had to save his money to start his own little radio show.

Of course, Harry watched the show religiously. Sure, while some friend may just listen to it on their stereo, Harry needed to sit down with his laptop and watch the doe eyed boy of his youth dance and sing and bob his head to every beat.

On the screen of Harry’s laptop Peter was dancing around the small booth with a blonde chick, and a red-head was laughing in her swivel chair by the soundboard. Friends. Peter had friends. Peter had friends that didn’t include Harry ~~anymore~~.

Harry was regretting requesting their song.

~♫♫♫~

** Twelve Years of Age **

Norman shipped his only son off to boarding school when the boy was twelve; out of sight, out of mind. Sure, he’d have to pay the cost for the school, and yeah he’d have to make sure his assistant sent the kid a birthday present or something, but life would be much simpler without his useless son around to bug him constantly.

Really, Norman did not want to learn anything about the inner workings of his phone or laptop; none of that mattered. What did matter was business, learning to run a company and balance money, be able to process the scientific formulas and difficult math equations, learn the periodic table—it wasn’t that hard, Peter Parker knew it at eight!

Peter Parker, Harry’s best friend, was a child to be proud of; so Norman pushed Harry away so he could focus solely on Parker. After all, being orphaned at a young age to his aunt and uncle made the boy crave a father figure and Norman would certainly step in to take up the mantel if it meant having a competent heir to his name!

When he’d heard that Norman had sent his best friend away, Peter was defiant in refusing any attention from the CEO. But Norman Osborn would not be dissuaded. He had his ways, and he kept pursuit. He even went so far as to get Uncle Ben fired from his job, paying off his employer enough money to cover a year of expenses for the man’s business and household needs. With the family struggling, Norman showed up like a savior and offered his help.

Peter had refused.

As had the rest of his family. They turned the CEO away at the door and told him to never come again. Still, Norman would not take a fall so easily and he badgered the family off and on for months, three years, after that.

Sadly for him, Aunt May was able to procure a job at a hospital and Uncle Ben started working at a mechanics shop. Peter took on an after school job at a corner store. All in all, they were doing well and even though Norman tried to bribe the employers again, it never worked. The pair of elderly parents were too charismatic and good at their new jobs.

Eventually the prodigy that could have been his slipped from Norma Osborn’s mind.

As had his son.

~♫♫♫~

When Harry was sent away, Peter became angry. Angry towards the man that had ruined his friend from the day of his birth. Harry had so much potential, so much life inside him that was kept locked away, so much information that he wanted to share, bursting from every seam. But Mister Osborn didn’t believe in the historical information his son had to offer; didn’t believe in his son.

So Peter did what he could for his friend, as Harry did for him.

They were five when they first encountered each other. School had never been more boring than that first Monday, but everything changed when Harold Osborn waltzed in, plopped down besides Peter, and stole his pencil. The result was a blooming friendship; not right away, of course—after all, Harry had taken Peter’s lucky pencil—but eventually the pair warmed up to each other and they just…clicked.

Harry was charismatic, outspoken, famous. Peter was all gangly limbs and mussed hair and wide, adorable brown eyes. They complimented each other perfectly.

When Peter needed protection from the bullies, Harry was there. When Harry needed a pat on the shoulder, Peter was there. When Peter was feeling down, Harry bought him ice cream. When Harry was feeling down, Peter brought him home; fed him Aunt May’s famous lasagna, put in Disney movie after Disney movie, until an Oscorp employee or security officer would show up in search of the missing child.

They became inseparable. It was rare to find one without the other. Harry was synonymous with Peter, and vice-versa. They knew everything about the other, and could have conversations without any words. Sleepovers were common, sometimes even daily, and always at Aunt May’s; they would curl up in Peter’s bed for the night and frequently they would wake up with their hands entwined, even at a young age. Harry would bring over video games and consoles, conveniently forgetting them so Peter could play with them longer, and they worked on school projects late into the night.

But then Harry left for boarding school and Peter was alone. Neither had found the need to expand their friend list when everything they ever needed or wanted was found in one person, so Peter had no one. The house seemed emptier, his life was dull, and he was lonely.

Until his thirteenth birthday. His aunt and uncle gave him a desktop computer and a package came in the mail, from one Harry Osborn. A cellphone, fully paid for the next four years, with one number already programed in and a small note that read _Call me_ in that delicate scrawl Peter knew so well. So he had.

The voice that answered after the sixth ring was groggy and slurred. “H’lo?”

Everything smoothed over with that cool voice.

“Harry…”

~♫♫♫~

** Thirteen Years of Age **

Harry was lonely and tired and lonely, but mostly tired. Tired and sad and angry. So very angry. At himself, mostly, for not being a good son for his father; angry that he couldn’t comprehend science or math like Norman wanted him to.

So he turned to the one person who made him better, who made him whole, who made him feel right. He bought Peter the best phone he could find and shipped it promptly so Peter would get it for his birthday.

They started to talk constantly, whether texting or speaking; even when one’s time zone was late at night, they always made time for each other.

_Father didn’t send me anything  
for my birthday_

_Im sorry, Har_  
I got you something but  
don’t have the money to ship it yet

_What’d you get me?_

_Not telling_

_Come on, Peter!_   
_Please_   
_Ill do the puppydog eyes_

_Don’t do those, Harry, I swear_

_[PICTURE RECEIVED]_

_HARRY, I SAID NO  
dammit_

_sooooo_

_Fine; I got you a Walkman_

_lol  
seriously?_

_Yes_  
how dare you laugh at my present  
for you

_You realize I have an mp3_

_doesnt matter_  
It’s part 1  
of your present

_I do like big presents_

_Im not telling you prt2_

_[PICTURE RECEIVED]_

_Damn you harry  
it’s a mix cd_

_Wait, really?_

_Yes, ok  
I made you a mixcd_

_That’s  
sappy_

_Meanie_  
I put a lot of work into this  
thing har

_…  
thank you, pete_

_duhh  
you’re welcome_

His present did indeed come in (a month after his birthday, but he understood; Peter wouldn’t accept any help that Harry could offer, sadly). He happily plugged in his earbuds, shut the CD in the case, and pushed play.

_~_   
_Hey, Harry_   
_~_

It was Peter’s voice and Harry let out a breathy laugh; one of his roommates, Jorden LeViagh, glanced up from his book and Harry gave him a glare that clearly stated _mind your own business._

_~_   
_So, I was wondering what I could get you that would be really personal and that you’d like and I was going through the attic when I found Uncle Ben’s super old Walkman. And it all just kinda clicked, so. I went out, got you a newer model Walkman, grabbed some CDs, Uncle Ben got me a CD burner, we got everything all set up and I got to work. So, there are only three songs on here and I wrote them out on the disc for you._   
_Look, Harry, I really miss you and I guess I just…_   
_~_

There was a long moment of silence where Harry wondered if something was going wrong mechanically. But then Peter’s voice began again and he relaxed visibly.

_~_   
_Look, Harry, I just want you to know that I really care about you and that…_   
_[muttering] [pause]_   
_Okayyy, first song is by Heather Dale. She’s awesome, you should check her out! She sings a lot of Celtic and folkish stuff, you’d like her._   
_~_   
_`Once a fair and handsome Seal Lord_   
_Lay his foot upon the sand_   
_For to woo the Fisher's daughter_   
_And to claim her marriage hand…’_   
_~_

Harry curled around a plush pillow and closed his eyes, enjoying every note and lyric washing in from the headphones.

Because it came from Peter. Everything from Peter was precious.

~♫♫♫~

“Would you put your phone down for two seconds, Osborn?”

The device was snatched from his hands and Harry glared up at the boy. “Hey! Give that back right now!”

Jordan leaned over Thommas’s shoulder to view the screen. “Who’s Peter?”

Harry reached for the phone, but Thommas held it out of reach; darn Harry’s short height. “A friend; give it back, Thommas! I’m not kidding.”

Thommas scrolled through the text messages in a bored manner. “Just a friend, Harry?”

The blond only hardened his glare. “Give it back.”

His phone buzzed, declaring a new message—one that his roommates were currently viewing. Jordan’s eyes widened and Thommas whistled, handing the electronic device back.

“Setting up dates, Osborn?”

Harry tried to will the blush away, but he still wasn’t fully in control of his emotions or complexion. He glanced at the screen quickly— _you, me, dunkin donuts when you get back—_ and tossed his head.

“At least I have friends, Monty.” He pushed pass his roommates.

Their gaze didn’t leave his back.

~♫♫♫~

** Fourteen Years of Age **

_Happy valentine’s day  
nerd_

_Good morning, Harry_

_Maybe for you  
im missing my beauty rest_

_You havent changed_

_What, since the last time we talked  
was I the first to say it?_

_Say what_

_You know what!  
so was i?_

_Yes, Harry, you were_

_First one this year?_

_Try_   
_first one in my life_   
_lol_   
_look who’s sappy now_

_Im not sappy  
im sophisticated_

_Please tell me you didn’t mail me chocolates_

_No  
tempted to but didn’t_

_Lol  
I sent you something_

_Fuck, noway_

_Yeaway  
and language har_

_whyyyy_

_bcuz I could  
duhh_

_what’d you send_   
_peter_   
_peter_   
_peter don’t go ignoring me!!_

_Im not ignoring you!_   
_I was showering, dammit!_   
_andit’s a secret!_   
_idiot_

_Don’t go insulting me_   
_peter_   
_pete_   
_pete tell me!_

_NO_   
_Harry don’t_   
_don’t go doing the thing_

_What thing, petey?_

_You know what thing_

_[PICTURE RECEIVED]_

_Damn you, not the eyes  
mixcd_

_YOU SENT ME ANOTHER ONE_

_I cant tell if you’re excited  
or annoyed_

_ASGHAGFAH_

_help me out here, use emoticons_

_:O_

_That doesn’t help_

_< :O_

_Better  
so…excited?_

_Surprised, excited  
yes_

_Awesome, I think you’ll like it_

So Harry waited for the package anxiously; what music had Peter sent him this time? The last one was fantastic and Harry had played it on repeat (specifically track 1, Peter’s voice) constantly for weeks after receiving it.

When the second disc came in, Harry shooed his bunkmates out the door, locked it, and settled down on the bed with the Walkman, headphones, CD, fuzzy blanket, and plush pillows. He started it and Peter’s voice reached his ears; slowly, as if savoring every moment, he closed his eyes. Everything was perfect when a little piece of Peter was with him.

_~_   
_Whaddup, Harry! So, I thought I’d make you another mix CD, ‘cause I’m like that. Of course this one is chalked full of romance songs. I mean, you know, T-Swizzle and stuff. Yes, okay, Harry, I can practically hear you laughing over here; I put Taylor Swift in here. Sue me!_   
_[pause] [clacking of keyboard]_   
_Sooo, I hope you had a good Valentine’s Day and didn’t get too sick on all that chocolate I’m sure the ladies gave you._   
_[quiet murmur]_   
_Alright, first one is Our Song, followed by You Belong with Me, Mine, Enchanted. Don’t worry, that’s just the first four; there are, like, three more I have lined up and not all of them are Taylor Swift. I swear, okay, just trust me!_   
_Okay, beginning… Now!_   
_[pause]_   
_Happy Valentine’s Day, Harry…_   
_~_

Harry couldn’t help chuckling throughout Peter’s whole speech. He was rambling and Harry wondered if he had had any energy drinks.

_~_   
_`Our song is the slamming screen door,_   
_Sneakin' out late, tapping on your window_   
_When we're on the phone and you talk real slow_   
_'cause it's late and your mama don't know_   
_Our song is the way you laugh’_   
_~_

Pulling a pillow into his lap, Harry stared down at the white machine as it played the music softly. Yeah, Taylor Swift was cliché, but the songs were suitable for Valentine’s. He clutched the pillow closer and ignored the heat in his cheeks as the next song started playing.

_~_   
_`If you could see_   
_That I'm the one_   
_Who understands you._   
_Been here all along._   
_So, why can't you see—_   
_You belong with me,_   
_You belong with me?’_   
_~_

Harry ran a hand through his hair and shifted on the mattress.

_~_   
_`Oh, I remember you driving to my house_   
_In the middle of the night._   
_I'm the one who makes you laugh_   
_When you know you're 'bout to cry._   
_I know your favorite songs,_   
_And you tell me about your dreams._   
_Think I know where you belong,_   
_Think I know it's with me.’_   
_~_

Peter had always been…special, to him. Harry’s first real friend, only best friend…only real friend. Peter was a constant in Harry’s otherwise vacant life… Harry would love to see his friend again.

_~_   
_` There I was again tonight_   
_Forcing laughter, faking smiles_   
_Same old tired lonely place_   
_Walls of insincerity,_   
_Shifting eyes and vacancy_   
_Vanished when I saw your face’_   
_~_

Harry buried his face in the pillow and let out a whine. It was too…romantic, too sweet and caring for him to handle. Romance? Pff, what was that?

_~_   
_` Your eyes whispered, "Have we met?"_   
_Across the room your silhouette_   
_Starts to make its way to me_   
_The playful conversation starts_   
_Counter all your quick remarks_   
_Like passing notes in secrecy’_   
_~_

Harry was tempted to skip all the songs and just go back to track #1, to Peter’s voice, to Peter. Should he be worried about the strong pull he was experiencing, to just hear the other’s voice again, to relish in the sound? Probably…

_~_   
_` I'll spend forever wondering if you knew_   
_I was enchanted to meet you’_   
_~_

“I was enchanted to meet you, Peter…”

~♫♫♫~

Harry noticed little things, little tiny things. Like how Peter’s texts started having more and more sarcasm and jokes in them; how Harry could care less about his homework; how Peter started becoming infatuated with comic book characters (for some reason, he really like Spiderman); how Harry started feeling lonely, alone, tired. His texts started holding less personality, less energy, more apathy. They came less and less frequently.

And then his phone started ringing more, showing the latest selfie of Peter Parker as the caller ID. He’d answer; Peter would chat, make jokes, ask how he had been, how things were going. Harry’s answer was the same: _fine, good, boring._ Somehow Harry would end up distracting his friend and they’d be on to other topics. Eventually, though, Peter would start yawning—it was late in New York anyway—and Harry would start talking, keep talking long past the other’s breathing was even and stable.

“I’ve stopped doing my homework, I dunno, man. Just don’t want to anymore, it’s so tiring. I’ve started hanging out on YouTube and Netflix and Twitter and stuff; met a couple of people nearby, they’ve invited me to hang sometimes. Apparently my dad’s been trying to track down a bunch of prodigies? I dunno, man…”

Peter’s soft breathing answered; and Harry would keep talking. Talk about the kids who laughed at him, talk about how his father wouldn’t even take his calls, talk about the amount of work he had to do (that wasn’t getting done, because why should he if he had no future ahead of him?)…

Only when Peter was asleep, would Harry break.

~♫♫♫~

_~_   
_S’up, bro! So, I noticed you’ve been a little down lately, and I know you won’t tell me exactly what’s going on; ya know, you keep skirting around everything, umm. But I just want you to know that I’m here for you, Harry, and I care and I’ll listen. I just want to be here for you, buddy. I’m your friend, okay? So, so just know that I…_   
_[muttering] [pause] [more muttering]_   
_Fuck it, Harry, I love you, okay? So listen to these songs and hang on, because something good is gonna happen. Something is going to happen, Harry, and you’re going to turn a corner here soon and, and… Fuck, Harry, just hold on, okay? You’re going to do something great, okay? I believe in you…_   
_So…So, just listen and relax, take a breather._   
_~_   
_`I awoke_   
_Only to find my lungs empty_   
_And through the night_   
_So it seems I'm not breathing_   
_And now my dreams are nothing like they were meant to be_   
_And I'm breaking down, I think I'm breaking down’_   
_~_

Harry couldn’t believe Peter had sent him another CD, but there he was. Listening to another one. The song names written on the white plastic: Sleeping Sickness, Iris, Black Balloon.

_~_   
_`And I don't want the world to see me_   
_'Cause I don't think that they'd understand_   
_When everything's made to be broken_   
_I just want you to know who I am’_   
_~_

Hearing the lyrics, Harry wanted to cry. Because it was everything he had been feeling, spoken perfectly. Sung perfectly.

The first tear fell, and more followed quickly.

~♫♫♫~

** Fifteen Years of Age **

_Since u seem to be his bffe_

_Who is this?_

_I think u shld kno  
tht harry’s not doing good_

_What’s going on?_

_His roommate found him this morning  
bathroom, blood, u get the pic_

_Shit  
is he ok?_

_Yeah, it wasn’t bad_   
_just a few cuts_   
_hell be fine but thought u shld kno_

_He wont fucking be fine_   
_shit_   
_where is he?_

_Breakfast rn  
will be available in 30mins_

_Thank you_

_I assume u know everything else?_

_If you mean partying and drugs  
yes_

_K_

_Thank you  
again_

Thommas tossed his phone back on his bed, took a deep breath. It was getting bad, Harry was getting bad. Red rims encircled his eyes and he spaced out daily. He’d started taking drugs, going off campus to party almost nightly, stopped doing his homework, and now he had been found with a razor in his hands.

Thommas was very, very worried. And the only person he could think of who could help would be Peter Parker, the one person Harry seemed to actually trust. So he’d gotten ahold of Harry’s phone, somehow bypassed the lock screen, and found Peter’s number.

He’d done the best he could.

~♫♫♫~

Peter called Harry in half an hour; sure, it was super mega late in New York, but thankfully Peter had been blogging late and had received the stranger’s message.

“Hey, Har. How’ve you been?”

_“Hey, Pete. What’s up? Didn’t we just talk a few hours ago?”_

Sleep schedule was whack, which was probably a reason Harry was becoming so depressed. Peter would have to integrate him into getting more sleep. It would be slow and steady, but Peter wouldn’t let Harry slip.

“Just wanted to check in and see how you were doing, buddy.”

There was a pause and a muffle of voices on Harry’s side. _“Yeah, totally cool.”_ A door shut. _“Never better!”_

Harry had always been a good liar; Peter said as much. And the laugh that followed was hollow and fake, rehearsed.

_“Really, Peter, I’m fine. What about you, though? How are you? Why are you still up?”_

“Blogging; and I’m worried about you.”

This pause was even longer than before; when Harry spoke, his voice was even and cold and blank. _“I can take care of myself, Peter. If there was nothing you needed, I have to get to class.”_

Peter didn’t know what to say; he was speechless. He supposed that was an indication that he had nothing to say because it didn’t take two seconds before Harry was hanging up.

~♫♫♫~

~  
 _Harry, you can_ _be a butt, you aren’t getting rid of me though; understand? I am here for you and I love you and just…please, please, Har… Just, god, talk to me or, or get some help, but, Harry, please just hold on, ok, because dammit…I love you…  
[pause] [muttering, shaky breath]  
[pause] [click]  
~  
‘I feel for you but when did you believe you were alone  
You say that spiders crawled inside and made themselves a home  
Where light once was’  
…  
‘Friend, please remove your hands from  
Over your eyes for me  
I know you want to leave but  
Friend, please don't take your life away from me’  
~_  
 _Harry, please. Just, just don’t do anything…wrong, bad… You are so important to me…_

_~_

~♫♫♫~

_Hey, harrys bffe  
hes in the hospital_

_What happened_   
_is he ok_   
_shit_   
_what happened??_

_OD_   
_cocaine_   
_partying last night_   
_someone at the part found him convulsing_   
_on the floor_

_…_   
_no_   
_shit_   
_is he ok_

_His roommates are getting him into therapy_   
_if possible_   
_we’re trying_

_Thank you  
hospital’s number please_

_Sure_

~♫♫♫~

** Sixteen Years of Age **

Their communication fell apart after that; Harry did go into therapy, and his cellphone was confiscated for that time. After that, he refused to answer any of Peter’s texts, and the emails were deleted right away without even a second glance. Harry felt dirty. He felt even more like a failure, as if he’d let Peter down by overdosing on cocaine. Especially after that last CD Peter had sent, practically in tears and begging for Harry to start making better decisions. But he hadn’t been making good decisions for a while now. So he was checked into therapy for the better part of that semester after his overdose (paid for by Oscorp, but not Norman; Harry would be surprised if Norman had even heard), missing exams and falling behind. He was given medications for his depressive episodes. And of course, Harry reserved himself. He spoke to his roommates, worked hard on his studies, and ignored Peter Parker.

It wasn’t like he thought Peter knew; only Harry had his number, and it wasn’t like Peter had friends who knew Harry or could update Peter. So Peter couldn’t know that Harry ODed; yet Harry couldn’t find it in himself to face Peter, to keep this information from Peter. And if he couldn’t tell Peter, then he couldn’t talk to Peter at all. He could not face his best friend like that.

So he didn’t.

Then the CD arrived.

_~_   
_Look, I know what happened, please talk to me, Harry. I care about you, you stubborn mule! What do you want from me? Did I mess up? I was worried about you, you know? I know I didn’t text or call when you were in the hospital but I…_   
_[muttering]_   
_Ughh, I called the hospital for updates; said I was Norman’s secretary. They would give me updates. Harry, god, I was so scared. I wish you could understand how much I care about you._   
_[pause]_   
_You may not know, but, umm…Uncle Ben died. Yeah, it was a…it was a mugging. Uhmm…_   
_[sniffling]_   
_I miss him, and I miss you, and I…I’m sorry, Harry…_   
_[pause]_   
_I hope you’re doing alright, Har…_   
_~_   
_‘Losing him was blue like I'd never known_   
_Missing him was dark grey all alone_   
_Forgetting him was like trying to know somebody you never met_   
_But loving him was red_   
_Loving him was red’_   
_~_

And Harry still couldn’t bring himself to face Peter. He wanted to extend his sympathies, so he did what he could: he called Oscorp and emptied his bank account to pay for Uncle Ben’s funeral and to send flowers for Aunt May and to pay for the bills for the next two years and to start a college fund for Peter. He didn’t know if or when or where Peter would go, and he did not doubt the Nerd of New York couldn’t get enough scholarships, but he was going to help in any way he could. He made sure all money donations were anonymous (not that Peter probably wouldn’t figure it out).

He went about his life after that, and eventually Peter’s texts and emails dwindled to nothing. There was nothing in the morning, no vibrating in the middle of class, and no late night messages. Absolutely nothing. Harry’s grades fluctuated from high Cs to low As, but he ate appropriately (he was still so damn short and skinny) and he slept now instead of going to parties (though the temptation was always there, simmering just below the surface: one drink won’t hurt, just one strip of white powder would be fine).

Thommas and Jorden were supportive and helped him when they saw him slipping. They reminded him to take his meds on days he may have forgotten (or missed on purpose; the meds sometimes made it worse). They studied with him and ignored the packages that came in occasionally, a delicate CD falling out of it upon opening. They never asked questions, and left him alone shortly after the packages would arrive. He was thankful for the time alone.

~♫♫♫~

** Seventeen Years of Age **

Eventually even Peter’s little introductory track got shorter and shorter, sometimes vacant altogether. However, the CDs never stopped. They kept coming in with a variety of songs on them, all different and unique and meaningful.

And then Peter started a radio show. The first song Harry heard on Web Radio was Stereo Heart and he couldn’t help but think that somehow it fit them perfectly.

And Harry saw, for the first time in years, how much Peter had truly changed. Selfies did him no justice. He was still rather gangly, his hair was shaggy, but he still had that quirky, lopsided grin. His eyes were still beautiful, easy to get lost in, and wide and brown and perfect and everything Peter. He was handsome and his voice was rolling in warming, safe syllables.

And there was a blonde girl at his elbow for the entire length of the Web Show; she would chime in with comments in a sweet voice and accompanied with a charming smile. And Peter would flash her a joyful smile, maybe a quick side-hug.

Harry didn’t listen to the show for four weeks after that.

~♫♫♫~

** Eighteen Years of Age **

Of course, Harry could not ignore Peter forever. Especially when he could watch Peter move, watch him turn and twist and laugh. He really liked to shake his hips… (Not that Harry would ever complain; it was incredibly hot)

Another girl joined the two, MJ, strange redhead with a bubbly, yet sophisticated personality. Harry liked her; she rarely touched Peter, unlike Gwen who loved to pat Peter’s arm or give him a quick peck on the cheek or link their arms. Harry didn’t like Gwen much…

~♫♫♫~

_Idk whats been going on  
but harry wont stop glaring at his comp_

_What?_

_Took u long enough 2 reply_

_Sorry  
I run a radio show_

_Ahh_   
_well, harry was glaring at comp_   
_all afternoon_   
_ok for two hours_

_Weird…  
ask if it was his dad_

_K  
nope, no daddy issues_

_Hmm_   
_idk then…_   
_does he have a gf?_

_Ha! Ur kidding right?_   
_hes socially stunted_   
_he only talks to me &Jorden_

_Hes not getting drugs is he?  
or a party?_

_Hang on lemme check  
he left the room so ill hack his comp_

_Thanks_

_No_   
_uhmm_   
_ur radio show?_   
_Web radio?_

_Yeah_

_He was watching_

_…_   
_i…oh_   
_…ok…_

~♫♫♫~

Peter called Gwen shortly after.

“So, apparently we’ve had an audience on the radio show.”

_“Oh, yeah, I wouldn’t know; it’s not like we don’t broadcast it online, right?”_

“Yeah, yeah, ok.” She was giggling over the phone; Peter continued. “Umm…Well, you know I’ve been in contact with Harry’s roommate for a while now, right? Thommas?”

_“Yea-huh.”_

“Okay, well…He just texted me, and apparently. God, okay, apparently Harry’s been watching.”

There was a pause and Peter stared at his black computer screen across the room. _“So, what are you gonna do about it, Pete?”_

“He doesn’t want to have anything to do with me, Gwen. He didn’t answer my texts, emails, doesn’t say anything about the CDs I send him.”

 _“But—”_ She had that tone of voice that said she was scheming. _“He does watch the radio show; and you can talk to him through that. That’s what you’ve been doing, in a way. Talking to him through the CDs; that’s what you told me and MJ.”_

Peter sighed and rubbed a hand across his face. “Yeah; okay.”

~♫♫♫~

 _-Hey, so I found out that a really good childhood friend of mine might be watching today so I’m gonna play a song for him… Look, Har, I don’t know if you’re watching or listening right now—I know it’s gotta be late where you are—but I’ve missed you and I hope life is treating you well-_ Peter looked at the camera that was broadcasting visual images to the viewers. _-This is for you, bud-_

_~_   
_‘I remember when_   
_We used to laugh_   
_About nothing at all_   
_It was better than going mad_   
_From trying to solve all the problems we're going through_   
_Forget 'em all_   
_Cause on those nights we would stand and never fall_   
_Together we faced it all_   
_Remember when we'd_   
_Stay up late and we'd talk all night_   
_In a dark room lit by the TV light_   
_Through all the hard times in my life_   
_Those nights kept me alive’_   
_…_   
_‘Those nights belong to us_   
_There's nothing wrong with us_   
_I remember when_   
_We used to laugh_   
_And now I wish those nights would last’_   
_~_

Peter hoped the message would get through to Harry, if he was watching. So he sat and waited and hoped that Harry would understand.

~♫♫♫~

Harry had been watching; and he had cried, though he would never admit to it. Thommas had just glanced at him and left the room quickly. So Harry listened and watched and cried. He took his phone in hand and typed a message, simple _hi_ , but he didn’t send it.

Because he saw the two girls and how they watched Peter with careful eyes and gentle smiles. He saw how they cared. He saw that, yes, while he missed Peter and Peter may miss him—that Harry Osborn was not needed.

~♫♫♫~

** Nineteen Years of Age **

It was the day after graduation that he saw the radio show; it was the day after the radio show that Harry was in a plane on his way back to New York.

He didn’t tell anyone (anyone being Peter or Aunt May). It’s not like his father really cared; in fact, Harry wouldn’t be surprised if Norman was even aware Harry was out of school. Of course, now it was college time. But Harry could push that. He wanted a break; a chance to breathe and find himself again. He was doing better, had been doing better, but he still felt lost—vacant, hollow, empty…lost…

He was going to stay in contact with his roommates; they had helped him, even when he didn’t want their help or yelled at them or threatened them (“My father will hear of this!” “Really, Harry? Draco quotes? That’s low even for you.” “…I know…”). He had their numbers and they said they would drop by the Osborn Penthouse when they dropped by New York.

When Harry entered the Oscorp company car, he wasn’t sure what to do. He recognized the sights and places and sounds, but they seemed distant somehow. They seemed different—of course, it had been seven years after all. But he felt like a stranger in his own home town. He wanted to feel at home, safe, calm.

“Hey, change of plans, Smithson!”

The salt-and-peppered driver (Harry had a vague sense of remembrance of an older man picking him off the floor of his father’s office when he was a toddler) hummed, “Yes, Mister Harold?”

“Swing by that big radio station tower; near the McDonald’s on 50th.”

“Ahh; Mister Harold, it is no longer a McDonald’s. It’s now a Starbucks.”

Yeah, things change. Hopefully not everything. “Turn the radio on.”

_-Next up is a Lady Gaga request; oh, lordy! If Gwen can wrestle the track from MJ. MJ, sweetheart, it’s just one song!-_

Harry hid a smirk against the tinted window; sure, sweetheart was a little disheartening, but hey… It was Peter’s voice. They finally got the track from MJ and had it playing now, but Harry could care less. Smithson took the turn into the radio station parking lot after a couple more songs and Harry fished his cellphone out, dialing the well-remembered number.

~♫♫♫~

 _-Ohh, looks like we’re getting a phone call! Here it comes, maybe another request!-_ Peter hit the accept button. _-Helloooooo, and who might you be?-_

_“parkours_lover, from twitter. I was wondering if I could request a song…”_

_-Uh-yuhh! That’s what we’re here for, right, gals?-_

Gwen lent forward to speak into the microphone on the table. _-Well yeah! Music is soul food!-_

Peter laughed. _–What would you like, parkours_lover?-_

_“Stereo Heart covered by Megan and Liz, please. Can I dedicate it to someone?”_

Peter shrugged away the feeling that he knew the voice. _–Sure!-_

_“I want to dedicate it to, well, my best friend. Umm…and I want to apologize for being a dick.”_

The door creaked open and Peter turned to shoo whoever it was; the ON-AIR light was on, couldn’t they read? But the words got stuck in his throat.

_“So…this is for you, Peter Parker.”_

He had hesitated for a split second because **_ohmygod iT WAS HARRY_**!! Harry who he had last seen when they were twelve; but he hadn’t changed. Slim, poised, beautiful soft blond hair and those wide blue eyes and those soft lips he was sure were amazingly kissable. Harry who ignored his texts and emails and (hopefully) received his CDs frequently, the songs carrying something meaningful; Harry who ODed and caused Peter to cry, wake Aunt May up, not sleep until he heard the news that Harry was okay, stable, alright, safe; Harry who Peter loved so much it hurt sometimes.

But then the hesitation was gone and he was across the small rectangular room, arms wrapping tight around that slim waist, and gripped the other boy as close as possible. Breathed him in. Harry smelled like stale airplane air and something uniquely Harry, something cool and soft and delicate. Harry gripped the back of Peter’s shirt and buried his nose against the taller boy’s shoulder.

“I’m sorry…” was his mumbled apology.

“Welcome home,” was the tender reply.

And Harry felt just a little bit more complete.

~♫♫♫~

At Aunt May’s, the pair sat on the couch. Sat would be inaccurate; more slumped, against each other, into each other. Harry had dropped his belongings at the penthouse only to rush over to Aunt May’s because Peter wasn’t at the penthouse; Peter was at his home and Harry needed to be with Peter.

Peter had immediately dragged him to the couch and put in some Disney movie, because what else was he supposed to do when his nineteen year old best friend arrived at his place after seven years? Old habits, that’s what. So he put in Aladdin and pulled his friend down beside him on the couch; Aunt May was still at the hospital, so it wasn’t embarrassing that they somehow ended up slumped against each other. It wasn’t awkward, it was warmth and safety and something normal.

“You know, I thought you might’ve been dating Gwen or MJ.”

Peter guffawed and nearly fell off the couch; Harry was jostled and he sat up straighter on the couch. “Ohmygod! Harry, you’re kidding, right?”

“Umm…no.” The blond crossed his arms over his chest and definitely did not pout. “You guys seemed close and they’re pretty…”

Peter just watched him, head tipped to the side and a soft, small smile on his face. “Har; Har, they’re lesbian. Well! MJ is lesbian, Gwen is bi. They’re together.”

Harry felt his cheeks flare some; damn his pale complexion! “O-oh…”

And Peter kissed him. Cradled his face in those giant hands, gentle and ever so caring, and kissed him softly. And Harry kissed him back, _because it seemed right_. And it was.

They went no further then soft kisses, and when Aunt May came home around ten she was surprised to see Harry. But she was happy. Because Harry was curled atop Peter and both were fast asleep, as if nothing had changed.

Because nothing had.

~♫♫♫~

_-So we got a new Webhead in today, folks! My bestfriend, pain in the ass, delicate frail flower like—-_

_-I will pull your hair, Peter Parker.-_

_-Fair enough! My boyfriend, Harry, everyone!-_

_-You know,-_ MJ was grinning from her place in Gwen’s lap. _–His childhood boyfriend.-_

Harry swiped at her head, but she ducked last minute and he glared at her. _–We weren’t boyfriends then, Mary-Jane!-_

Peter laughed; he wrapped an arm around Harry and drew the other boy close. _–Well, here’s our song to welcome Harry: Stereo Heart.-_

_~_   
_‘My heart's a stereo_   
_It beats for you, so listen close_   
_Hear my thoughts in every no-o-o-te_   
_Make me your radio_   
_And turn me up when you feel low_   
_This melody was meant for you_   
_Just sing along to my stereo’_   
_~_


End file.
